


Salt

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Series: Salt [1]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV), Supernatural
Genre: (granted that the fic itself is set in February), AU After S3, Crossover, F/M, Ichabbie Holloween, because who needs canon?, let's not think too hard about that one eh?, not this gal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: Abbie and Crane’s plans for a weekend getaway in the city go even more awry when their last-minute hunt is interrupted.





	

“Next year, no concrete plans,” Abbie says quietly.

“It _does_ seem a rather irresistible temptation of fate,” Crane agrees, which is probably why, instead of drinking champagne in the bathtub of their room at The Library, they’re spending the first night of their pre-Valentine’s Day weekend freezing their asses off in the woods by the lake while they wait for the undine who’s been drowning men to show up. And if that weren’t enough, with Sophie away on assignment and Jenny busy hugging the toilet bowl courtesy of the strain of flu going around town, they _also_ have no backup.

Yep. So far this weekend just _screams_ romance.

It’s half past eleven when glowing ripples appear near the water’s edge, and Abbie and Crane move into position as quietly as possible as the undine emerges.

With iridescent blue-green scales, webbed fingers, and visible gills, she doesn’t look like the illustrations Abbie’s seen. But as she wades toward the shore she changes, her aquatic features melting into milky white human skin as rippling reddish gold hair sprouts from her head.

“Remember,” Crane says, “she shall be as vulnerable to bullets as any human once she reaches dry land, but not before. We must wait until _precisely_ the right–”

A shotgun blast rings out from the woods to their left and the undine reels back, screeching in pain.

“What the hell?” Abbie wonders aloud as two tall figures burst forth from the trees, accompanied by a second shotgun blast. The undine staggers backward and hisses, baring small, pointed teeth at her attackers.

“It would appear that we have company,” Crane states irritably as the undine gives one last furious shriek and dives back beneath the surface of the water, disappearing from sight.

Abbie rolls her eyes skyward. “I can’t believe we’re missing hotel sex for this.”

“Agreed.”

The interlopers, now in the midst of debating whether or not they’ve killed the undine, whirl around as Abbie and Crane approach. Two white men, one Crane’s height and the other even taller, armed with matching sawed-off shotguns which are now being leveled at her and Crane..

Worst. Romantic weekend. Ever.

“FBI,” Abbie says firmly, keeping her gun trained on the closer man as flashes her badge. “Drop your weapons.”

He smirks–actually fucking _smirks_ –and makes no move to obey. “Oh, sweetheart. This is above your pay grade.”

Reminding herself of exactly how much paperwork she’ll have to fill out if she shoots this dick, Abbie counts to ten and tries again. “Agent Abbie Mills of the FBI, drop your weapons _now_.”

He cocks his head. Then he grins. “Oh, _hey_ ,” he says, lowering his gun. “How’s Corbin?”

Abbie opens her mouth. Closes it.

Honestly, at this point, should she even be surprised?

Dean and Sam Winchester, as they introduce themselves, look genuinely saddened to hear about Corbin’s death. Apparently he’d been a friend of their father’s, and though they’d wondered why he’d fallen off the grid, they hadn’t known him personally well enough to have a means of contacting him.

An odd white residue on the ground catches Abbie’s eye while Dean is talking, and she crouches down to inspect it. She frowns. “Is this _salt_?”

Dean looks mildly annoyed by the interruption, but nods. “Rock salt,” he says, patting his rifle.

“ _Salt_?” Crane echoes, fixing the Winchesters with that ‘condescending teacher’ glare he does so well. “You were attempting to slay an undine with _salt_? What on _Earth_ prompted such an absurd venture?”

Sam glares back. “That’s not an undine. Undines only kill men who’ve been unfaithful to _them_.”

“Yeah, well, apparently this one’s taking the break-up harder than most,” Abbie says sharply. “And since _you guys_ ran her off before we could kill her, I can only assume she’s going to keep doing it.”

“Perhaps more prolifically, as she is now _also_ wounded and angry,” Crane adds.

The Winchesters, to their credit, look like they’re beginning to realize just how badly they screwed the pooch on this one.

Sam swears, raking his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Alright. That was our bad.”

Crane arches an imperious brow. “Yes. It very much _was_.”

“We’ll help fix it, then,” Dean says. “We’ve got some regular ammo in the car. We’ll meet back here in fifteen and help you smoke this bitch.”

Abbie doesn’t exactly relish the thought, but since any backup is better than no backup, she says, “Fine. Just don’t get in the way. _Sweetheart_.”  
  


* * *

  
“Hey, dude?”

Ichabod tamps down his prickle of annoyance at that ridiculous term of address Dean insists upon using. “Yes, Mister Winchester?”

“What’s Abbie’s deal?”

“She is a lady of unparalleled strength and virtue with whom I am most fortunate to spend my life.”

“…That answers my follow-up question.”

**Author's Note:**

> I lost interest in Supernatural early in the second season, so if Sam and Dean have undergone any huge personality changes since then, let’s just say that by the magic of fanfic, 2017 Ichabbie are meeting the 2006 Winchester brothers.


End file.
